


Risk and Reward

by Cornerofmadness



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Crime Scenes, Gen, Gun Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Medical Procedures, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:28:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28253178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cornerofmadness/pseuds/Cornerofmadness
Summary: Gil doesn’t want to give in but he has no choice. Either bring Martin Whitly out of Claremont to look for bodies he’s hidden or Malcolm’s kidnapper will kill Bright.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 70
Collections: fandomtrees





	Risk and Reward

**Author's Note:**

  * For [River_Song](https://archiveofourown.org/users/River_Song/gifts).



> **Disclaimer:** Not mine, Chris Fedak and Sam Sklaver owns it
> 
> **Notes:** Written for green_wing for Fandom Trees 2020. Happy Holidays

Gil couldn’t believe he was doing this. It was insanity. There was precedence, of course. Police had taken killers out to their burials sites many times but this felt wrong. The tension he saw on Dani and JT’s faces said they felt the same. 

It _was_ wrong. They weren’t doing this because of a plea deal or some killer had decided to do the right thing. Malcolm Bright was missing and his kidnapper had arranged this. Bring Martin Whitly to the woods not far from the cabin he and Watkins used and force Whitly to show him where Elizabeth Bernstein was buried. Problems faced them any which way they looked at it. Elizabeth’s name was completely new to law enforcement, at least as far as The Surgeon’s collection of victims was concerned.

Gil knew all of Martin’s victims by name and if he had forgotten any details, Jessica knew them. She could recite details of her husband’s crimes per verbatim. They all knew there could have been more victims tied to The Surgeon’s crimes. Martin had never admitted to a damn thing. He’d taken what amounted to an Alford plea when the chance to be incarcerated in Claremont had been put on the table. All he had ever admitted to was there was enough evidence to convict him but he never said I’m guilty. I’m insane, yes but guilty no.

For all they knew, Elizabeth Bernstein was actually one of Watkins’s victims. Martin had been the first to propose that idea when Gil had gone to Claremont to tell him Malcolm was gone and that they had demands from the kidnapper. He actually believed Martin when he said that he didn’t know the woman because if there was one thing Martin prized in this world it was Malcolm. He wouldn’t let Malcolm come to harm if he could help it.

“I have a good idea where John would have buried people in the woods,” he’d said. 

Gil hadn’t wanted to do this, had dismissed the idea until the kidnapper had sent a video of Malcolm chained by his neck to a wall. He wasn’t going to get out of this like he had with Watkins. If nothing else, he’d proven handcuffs alone weren’t enough. Had the kidnapper known that? Had he just gone shopping at a fetish store and a hardware store to get the padlocks he used to be sure Malcolm couldn’t get the collar off. Once the chief of Ds realized the threat against Bright was credible, the ball started rolling. Gil had left it up to the team if they wanted to be part of this knowing damn well they would never sit it out. Still, he had to offer them a chance to not go into the woods with a serial killer. If Martin Whitly somehow escaped, it would be Gil’s neck in the noose as far as the job – and no doubt the media – were concerned.

Of course, if Martin Whitly _did_ escape, Gil knew he’d probably take the time to kill the man who had arrested him and usurped his role as a father figure. To help ensure they didn’t lose their prisoner, Gil had arranged for a team he felt best suited to handle the situation. Dani and JT would help him with the kidnapper and hopefully get Bright back unharmed. Edrisa and her team would supervise the recovery of whatever remains Martin led them to, provided he led them to any. And he had a couple of K-9 units and sharpshooters on the team. He made a production of pointing that out to Whitly who gave him a look of such loathing, it made Gil’s flesh crawl.

Definitely Whitly would kill him before running. Hell, he’d kill Gil even if it meant he couldn’t get away. It would probably be worth it to him. At least it wasn’t winter, Gil reminded himself. He could only imagine how much harder this would be in winter. 

“Are you sure he’s bringing my boy,” Whitly said, hitting those last two words hard. He wanted to be sure Gil remembered that Malcolm was not his flesh and blood as if he could somehow forget that. What Whitly never seemed to grasp was DNA alone did not a family make. He was too narcissistic for that.

Malcolm was every bit Gil’s son as he was Martin’s but now was not the time to hash this out.

“We are supposed to start the search and then he’ll contact us,” Gil replied.

Whitly curled his lip at Gil. “And that vague answer was enough to suit you?”

“No, but he was very good at hiding his tracks. I don’t think he wants to get away. He wants answers and if you want Malcolm to stay alive, you had better give him those answers.”

A silence settled over the woodland setting as if all of them were holding their breath. Martin stared at the cabin where he and Watkins had done such harm. The cabin had been thoroughly searched and watched since the first call had come in. No one had come near but someone had to be around somewhere. Gil knew that much because the only way the kidnapper could possibly know if they were out here with Whitly looking for a covert burial site was if they were already in the woods. Oh, he supposed, someone could be in a nearby rural town waiting for a call but he didn’t think the kidnapper was just going to drive up with Malcolm in the trunk but at this point, nothing was going to surprise him.

“Dr. Whitly?” Dani snapped the silence in two.

Martin’s gaze shifted to her but he didn’t hold the same animosity for her in his eyes as he spared for Gil. He knew that it could be that Martin favored women in general or that he thought Dani was Malcolm’s partner, which made her special. 

“I need a moment, Dani,” Whitly replied very solicitous. “I haven’t been here in twenty years. Things have changed.”

“Did Watkins kill anyone directly out here?” she asked “If Elizabeth Bernstein truly isn’t one of your victims, would Watkins have done that? Malcolm profiled him as being an indirect killer.”

“When I knew John, he preferred for me to do the heavy lifting so long as I didn’t mind what he did with them afterward. As I told Gil before, for someone who took his pleasure with dead bodies, he was fastidious. He didn’t like to get dirty in the least. Those Grandparents of his did damage.” Martin pulled a long face. “The only living person I ever saw him try to hurt directly was Malcolm and that didn’t turn out well. Malcolm can be ferocious when you press him, and I hope the person who has him finds that out the hard way.”

“None of that,” Gil said, jabbing a finger at him. “Do you have any idea where to begin looking for a burial ground up here or did we just take you for a road trip with your son’s life hanging in the balance?”

“Don’t be testy, Gil. I’m thinking. You do realize that there is every chance that this Ms. Bernstein has nothing to do with either me or John? There are plenty of killers stalking the streets of a city like New York.”

Gil thinned his lips. “I know that all too well but that doesn’t help Malcolm.”

To his credit, Martin’s face lost color. Finally, he lifted his shackled hands as far as he could since they were still fastened to his waist restraint. “To the east, there is a creek and behind that some limestone formations. John was always quite taken with them, the power of God that had made such a pretty setting or some nonsense. I kept trying to tell him it was more like the power of water to carve stone.”

“You’re straying off topic,” Gil said.

Martin shot him more stink eye but he started walking to the east, taking small steps as if he had forgotten how to walk on uneven ground in the last twenty years. The shackles no doubt hindered him further but he chose his path with such certainty that Gil felt confident they would find something at the end of this, whether another Surgeon victim or one of Watkins’s. In the end, that wouldn’t matter. Someone would at least know what happened to their loved one and maybe it would be enough to convince the kidnapper that they had acted in good faith, even if turned out not to be Elizabeth Bernstein’s grave.

Something told Gil Whitly wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of trying to make a break for it. He knew Gil’s sharp shooters would end him and he knew Gil wanted him out of Malcolm’s life. It was a risk he doubted Whitly would take with his own life hanging in the balance.

They had made it at least a mile in before they found the creek and the limestone formations that rose up like a wall. Whitly stopped at the creek’s edge. 

“The ground was softer on this side,” he said, forgetting to frame it in the context of what Watkins liked.

“So, you’re saying this is where you buried her.” JT eyed him.

Whitly shook his head, his out of control curls flopping. “I’m saying that Watkins would have wanted things to be easy. If he buried anyone here, it would on this side. Now what, Gil?”

Gil crooked his finger at Preston and her dog. “Not all of our dogs are the sort that are here to run you to ground if you put a toe out of line, Martin. Rowdy there is a cadaver dog. Preston, are you ready?”

She nodded and let Rowdy off his leash. The Labrador Retriever started racing along the creek sniffing. Gil texted the burner phone that he’d been told to contact once they got to the site. He hoped the text actually sent. He had a solitary bar showing on his phone.

“Want to narrow it down for Rowdy?” he asked Whitly.

“I’ve been telling you the truth. I did not kill Elizabeth Bernstein. I don’t know for a fact anyone at all is buried here. So, what do you plan to tell my son’s kidnapper?”

“That we’re at the site. I’m hoping just the effort of looking might be enough to get this person here with Malcolm in tow. We’ll go from there.”

“Lieutenant Arroyo,” Preston called. “Rowdy’s indicating he’s found something.”

Gil blinked. He hadn’t expected it to be that fast. Even Whitly seemed shocked. Gil was truly beginning to believe him about this but that made it worse. They weren’t going to find Bernstein here but they would find someone. That might be enough because how could anyone be expected to recognize someone buried in a shallow grave for more than twenty years?

Whitly’s handlers sat him down on a fallen log and stood guard over him there. Edrisa and her team moved in with shovels. Gil went to stand with Dani and JT. There was nothing for them to do while the CSI team worked other than to keep an eye out for the kidnapper.

After several minutes Edrisa waved at them. “I have something here.”

“Really?” Whitly asked, his eyes widening, and Gil took that as confirmation that the man had been bullshitting them. He had no idea where Watkins had buried anyone or at least didn’t think it would be this easy to find.

“Sit there,” he said, pointing a finger at Whitly.

Before he or his team could move, Gil heard something in the woods. One of the officer’s German Shepard stood, attentive. That dog was the sort they released to help bring down someone and he was interested in whatever was moving in the woods. It was too big to be a rabbit. Gil rested his palm on his side arm’s butt just in case it wasn’t a deer.

Through the woods, hands lashed down to his waist reminiscent of the shackles on his father, Malcolm stumbled out into the clearing with a tall, middle aged man behind him, a Glock pointed to the back of Malcolm’s head. At that range, if the kidnapper fired, Malcolm’s head would be hamburger. Malcolm still wore the fetish collar which was leashed back to the man’s belt. Malcolm had no prayer of running off. Blood crusted his hair and made a flaking, rusty mask over the left half of his face.

“You found her,” the man said.

“We found someone,” Gil said, gripping his gun. He didn’t draw it because there was no way he could get a shot without hurting Malcolm. Even the sharpshooters wouldn’t try to drop this guy because if he went into cadaveric spasms, his finger on the Glock’s trigger would end Malcolm too. “Are you okay, Malcolm?”

“You really brought my father out here. I told Douglas you would never do that.” Malcolm sounded honestly surprised. “And you found someone.”

“It’s her. It’s my sister,” Douglas said, shifting his aim to Whitly.

Gil hated that he didn’t feel any desire to keep The Surgeon from being shot. That he could feel nothing for the man, in spite of what Whitly was, disturbed him. “We don’t know that yet. Why do you think that the Surgeon killed your sister?”

“She disappeared at the right time,” Douglas said, his voice cracking. “It was him. I know it was. You know as well as I do you never found all his victims. You just found the ones he wanted you to find, the ones he displayed for all to see. There had to be more.”

“Say that you’re right,” JT said, dragging Douglas’s attention to him. “Why wait until now?”

Douglas blinked as if the question took him by complete surprise.

“I think Douglas is dying,” Malcolm said. “This is his last chance.”

Douglas flinched, his gun hand swinging back toward Malcolm. “Shut up. Is that my sister or not, Surgeon? Tell me or I will kill your son.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Gil saw Whitly was on his feet and that Dani had moved to a new position, maybe trying to get a bead on Douglas. All Gil had to do now was to get the man to point that gun away from Malcolm and back at Whitly.

“I would like it if you quit pointing that gun at my son,” Whitly said. 

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I can answer it,” Edrisa called loudly. 

Douglas turned toward her, the gun lowering again. “Is it her?”

“You told Lieutenant Arroyo in your calls to him that your sister always wore a necklace, a silver chai on a tree of life,” Edrisa said holding up a necklace, the silver chain dangling from her blue gloved hand. 

“It’s her. I have to see her!” Douglas said, pushing Malcolm forward.

“You won’t want to see that,” Malcolm said, planting his feet. 

“Move.” He pushed Malcolm harder.

Malcolm stumbled, his leash yanking on Douglas’s belt. Douglas flailed for balance and the gun went off. Malcolm screamed and fell. Douglas dropped the gun, a horrified expression on his face as he was yanked to his knees by the weight of Malcolm’s falling body.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I didn’t think the gun would go off,” he cried.

Dani and JT descended on him, grabbing his arms. He didn’t even fight them as JT handcuffed him and Dani undid the leash from his belt to give Malcolm’s neck some slack as he made choking sounds.

“Bright, just breathe,” she said, trying to get the collar off but it was padlocked on. “Are you hit?”

“Yes!”

“Stay put, Dr. Whitly,” one of the cops growled, pointing his gun at him.

“That’s my boy! I’m a doctor. You need to let me take care of him. You’re never going to get another doctor out here fast enough if something vital has been hit,” Martin raged at the uniformed officer.

“Barnett, bring him over,” Gil said, because Whitly was right. He grabbed Whitly’s arm and dragged him faster to Malcolm’s side. The scent of blood filled the air. Malcolm stared up at them, panting, his blue eyes filled with pain. Gil turned to Whitly. “You know what to do.”

“Guess you are pretty useless right now, aren’t you, Gil?” Whitly’s eyes danced. “It must stick in your craw.”

“Do you really want to do this now while your son is bleeding on the ground?” Gil glared.

Whitly smirked and tried to get down on his knees. Gil shoved him down less than gently but a banged-up knee wasn’t going to stop Whitly from helping Malcolm. Whitly jerked on his shackles. 

“What can I do like this?”

Gil didn’t want to do what he had to do next. He turned to face the creek. “Edrisa, get up here now. I need you to assist Dr. Whitly.”

“Me?” She squeaked. “You know….”

“It’s for Malcolm,” he said forcefully, knowing that was her Kryptonite. 

Nodding, Edrisa stripped off her corpse contaminated gloves and grabbed the box of them out of her kit and then decided to bring the whole kit. She raced over to where Malcolm sprawled on the ground. Dani and JT hovered next to him.

“Who is she?” Whitly asked, yanking on his shackles again.

“Dr. Tanaka, she can help you if she’s willing to be that close to you when you have tools in your hand.”

“I am,” Edrisa shot Whitly a dark look.

Gil nodded. “You hanging in there, kid?”

“Been better,” Malcolm rasped.

“You’re giving me a medical examiner to help? Seems a little premature for that,” Whitly said.

“She’s a doctor just the same.” Gil unlocked Whitly’s hands from his waist restraint and took off his handcuffs. He then looped one through Whitly’s waist restraint and closed the other cuff over Malcolm’s wrist.

Whitly’s eyes popped. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure you don’t run, Martin.”

“You think I’d abandon my boy while he’s bleeding?” he snarled.

“We do have another doctor to help so you might be inclined to run.” Gil unholstered his weapon and pointed it at Whitly’s face. “JT, Dani.”

They trained their weapons on him too.

“Your friends are very hostile, son,” Whitly said, getting an arm under Malcolm. He gathered him close to him, resting his cheek on Malcolm’s head. Gil couldn’t tell if this was meant for his eyes or if there was actual feeling behind the tender gesture.

“Protective…of me,” Malcolm said, fading some.

“Let’s see where you’re hit,” he said as Edrisa passed him some gloves.

Martin held them in one hand, examining Malcolm with the other until he spotted the hole and the blood all over Malcolm’s leg. Malcolm stared down at himself.

“Don’t want…leave pants.”

“You being pants less is the least of your worries,” Gil said, kneeling down on the opposite side of Malcolm after he holstered his gun. Dani and JT had Whitly under control without him. The look of fury on Whitly’s face when Malcolm reached for Gil’s hand would not soon be forgotten.

“Dr. Tanaka, I’m assuming you have scissors in that kit.” Whitly nodded his bushy chin to it.

Edrisa nodded and got them out. She cut Malcolm’s pants open first up to his waist band and then all the way down to his knee. Gil gritted his teeth seeing the hole in leg. Blood spurted out of the wound like a fountain. 

“Fresh gloves please, Dr. Tanaka.” Whitly stripped his off and she provided him a fresh, less contaminated pair.

“This is going to hurt, son.” Whitly put his gloved finger into the hole and Malcolm gasped. “I think it’s a through and through. If you want to be helpful, Gil, roll Malcolm toward you.”

Gil grabbed Malcolm’s hip and rolled him up onto his other one. There was an exit wound on the back of his thigh. “Dani, have the uniforms be ready to look for the bullet once we get Malcolm out of here.”

“Will do. We’ve already called for a medi-vac,” she replied.

“Good. I think it missed the bone but it’s nicked the femoral artery,” Whitly said.

“Dani, tell them Bright’s going to need a transfusion,” Edrisa said.

“Type O positive,” Whitly supplied. “Dr. Tanaka, you have any sutures in that bag.”

“Mostly I have that in my morgue,” she replied. “Let me check.”

“Was it…Elizabeth?” Malcolm asked.

“Yes, was it?” Gil asked.

“No, that was my necklace.” Edrisa grinned, rooting through her bag. She came up with a packet of sutures. “Here you go, Dr. Whitly. I don’t have sterile gloves or dissolvable sutures but this prolene will hold until we can get Malcolm to the hospital. I’ll get you a needle driver.”

Edrisa handed over the prolene and found the driver. Whitly loaded the suture needle into the driver while she found a bottle of saline and squirted it into the wound. Malcolm hissed.

“Sorry, my boy but I doubt your medical examiner has any anesthetics in her bag. I have to ligate your femoral artery. This is going to hurt. Squeeze Gil’s hand if you need to, try to break a few fingers.” Whitly shot him a smug work and Gil let him have that one. He didn’t want to upset Malcolm more than he already was. It might be a mercy that Bright seemed to be barely hanging onto consciousness.

A pained expression on her face, Edrisa used some of the retractors in her kit to crank open the wound to give Whitly better access. Malcolm groaned and grabbed Gil’s hand. He panted hard as his father stitched together the nicked artery. Gil held Malcolm’s chest down with his other hand.

“I don’t want to close the wound. They’re going to have to cut it back open if I do. Let’s use four by fours and a pressure dressing or whatever you have in that kit that might function as one. If there’s a first aid kit back in the police vehicles, an ace bandage will help,” Whitly said.

“JT, send someone after it unless you have one, Edrisa,” Gil said.

She shook her head. “No. I only keep the four-by-four sponges in the kit for blotting up anything in the cavities.” Edrisa tore open some of the sponges and Whitly pressed the gauze against the wounds on either side of Malcolm’s thigh. It took fifteen minutes for someone to run back to the cars and return with the ace bandage. In that time, others had taken Douglas away, presumably to the nearest police station.

Malcolm managed to ask, “Who is in the grave?”

“Not a clue,” Edrisa said. “She’s fresher than twenty plus years ago. I’d say no more than two years and I’m only guessing at gender. She is wearing a dress but that doesn’t really mean anything.”

“You should try not to talk too much, son. You’re going to need to conserve your strength.” Whitly pulled off his gloves and tossed them. He cupped Malcolm’s cheek with his hand. He stroked a finger over Malcolm’s cheekbone, a soft comforting motion, and Gil gestured to two of the uniformed officers.

When they came over, he said, “As soon as Jones gets back with the bandage, take Dr. Whitly back to the car. In the meantime,….” He unlocked the cuff off Malcolm’s arm and fastened them back around Whitly’s hands.

“This is going to make it very difficult to work, Gil.” Whitly shot him a dark look.

Gil ignored him, trying to read Malcolm’s face. He wasn’t thrilled with what he saw there. Beyond the bled-out paleness and the bruises Douglas had left him with, there was something in Malcolm’s eyes. “Edrisa can handle wrapping an ace bandage around his leg. You can sit there and supervise.”

Gil fastened Whitly’s hands back to his waist restraint and as he did so, he leaned in and whispered, “And I’m allowing that for Malcolm’s sake. So, sit quietly with your son, Martin. You might never get another chance to be this close to him.”

He might not like that Malcolm wanted his father there but he could tell that he did so he allowed it. Finally, Jones returned with the bandage and in that time Preston’s cadaver dog had found two more sites he was interested in.

“Are they yours, Martin?” 

He shook his head. “They are not. It’s possible John used the cabin, probably left them there to starve to death and then buried them out there. You can take it up with him, Gil. I have no answers for you.”

Gil narrowed his eyes. “I hate that I actually believe you.”

Whitly’s only answer was a mocking expression. Eventually the medi-vac crew arrived and took Malcolm away. Whitly held on as long as he could but in the end he didn’t fight them taking him back to the cars. He looked somehow smaller, sad even. Gil didn’t have time to care about that. He had a new multiple body crime scene to investigate and a kidnapper to question waiting on him. It was going to be a busy week.

XXX

Gil lit some candles after giving Mary’s feet a rub. His father had been staunchly Catholic. Mary, the mother of God, had been a fixture in their small backyard. He’d long since lapsed for the most part but today seemed like a good time to light a candle to the Holy Mother and thank her for how the day turned out.

Malcolm would be all right. He needed a few units of blood and a lot of antibiotics for the bullet wound. The bone wasn’t broken but he did have a concussion. He wasn’t best pleased with having to stay in the hospital. Gil could live with that displeasure so long as Malcolm would be okay.

Whitly was ensconced in Claremont again without incident if he ignored the fact that Whitly had called Malcolm’s cell several times to check up on him and to fish for information on the burial sites. Gil had told him where he could go using language the Holy Mother wouldn’t approve of. 

He pushed off the kneeler and rubbed her foot again just above where she crushed a snake. He had to get back to the station even though he was exhausted. He still had to help with interrogating Douglas and then make up a plan of attack if it was Watkins burying people near the cabin. Dani had floated the uncomfortable idea that Watkins might have brought another killer there. He had tried to recruit Malcolm after all. Who knew? Maybe he’d tried before that. At least they knew where to find him if they needed to have a chat.

Gil walked out the church’s door, pausing to dip his fingers in the holy water. He sent up another quick prayer for how it ended, with Malcolm alive, and his father not escaping custody. He’d go back to visit Malcolm once he was done at the station. He promised both Malcolm and Jessica that. He’d probably end up sleeping in the reclining chair in Malcolm’s hospital room. Gil was fine with that. He preferred to stay close to Malcolm right now. Between yet another kidnapping, getting shot and the no doubt complicated feelings stirred up by being so close to his father, Gil knew Malcolm’s brain would be a cauldron of emotions. Yes, he would need Gil and like always, he would be there. He would always be there if Malcolm needed him.


End file.
